


Not That Simple

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF John, Bottom Sherlock, But John doesn't mind, Friends to Lovers, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Top John, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: When John and Rosie move back in to 221B, Sherlock realises that John can drive him insane in more than one way.





	Not That Simple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelfire/gifts).



> This originally began as a prompt requested of me in a comment from Feel Something. Sorry it took so long!

It started off so simple.

  
_No_.

  
Now that Sherlock thought about it, there was nothing simple about the way things started out. It started when John showed up outside of 221B, bags and Rosie in his hands, telling Sherlock he–no, they–wanted to come home. Sherlock said yes, of course without a single doubt or pause because there was nothing Sherlock wanted more than for John to simply come home.

  
He knew that after Mary, John had a difficult time finding himself, forgiving himself for not truly loving his wife as he had no idea who he’d fallen in love with. Sherlock had been patient, letting themselves rebuild their friendship as they rebuilt 221B. Somehow, within that allotted amount of time, Sherlock and John had grown somewhat inseparable.  
More so than usual. 

  
Sherlock noticed it the morning after John and Rosie moved back in, while he was sitting at the kitchen table, viewing slides under his microscope. John came, carrying Rosie down, with sleepy eyes and a low, gruff voice from sleep.  
“Mornin’,” John muttered and the deep timbre of his voice sent a chill down Sherlock’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He never did.

  
“Good morning, John,” he pulled back to flash a smile at Rosie. “Good morning, Rosamund.” He watched as John pulled the fridge open, surpassing the internal body parts, pushing them aside with his hand to pull out the milk.

  
Doesn’t mind the body parts anymore.  
“Would you mind holding her?” John asked. “I need to start on breakfast. Are you eating?”

  
“I…” Sherlock trailed off, then there was a baby in his arms. “Oh. _Hello_ ,” Rosie looked up at him with those trademark Watson dark blue eyes. She tilted her head in a funny way as if trying to deduce Sherlock.

  
“Doesn’t matter,” John smirked. “I’m making you breakfast.”  
“Y...you’re making me breakfast?”  
“Yes,” John declared with a wink, going back to the fridge for necessities. “I’m making you breakfast.”

  
It was the wink.  
John never winked.  
Why was John winking?  
Maybe it was a mistake.

  
Rosie was still looking up at Sherlock as he frowned. She tried to frown, too, which made Sherlock smile. He pulled her closer to him, against his chest, as he watched John–trying to figure out the mystery.

~~~

  
It didn’t stop there.

  
Of course it didn’t.

  
Next week, John came home with a few grocery bags. “Got some food and things for the bathroom. You needed a new toothbrush.”

  
“ _Oh_ ,” Sherlock murmured, looking up from one of John’s medical journals. “Thank you.”

  
“Don’t mention it,” John said, smiling brightly at him. Sherlock couldn’t help but return it. John reminded Sherlock of sunshine and when he smiled, it was impossible not return it. Sherlock wanted, always, to see John smile. It made Sherlock’s heart clench, but he broke the eye contact first, his eyes falling onto the words that he could no longer pay attention to. He heard John depart seconds later and breathed s sigh of relief, chastising himself.

  
_John’s just come home–calm down before you ruin everything!_  
_He’ll leave again_ , a voice in the back of his mind added unhelpfully that sounded dangerously close to Mycroft.  
_Shut_ _up_.

~~~

  
When Sherlock got up the next morning, he could hear John moving about the flat in such a manner that Sherlock figured out that he was getting ready for work.

  
He left his room, donned in his blue dressing gown, his hair all over the place as he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. He found John in the kitchen preparing tea and said his greeting.

  
“Good morning,” he murmured, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. He glanced around. “Where’s Rosie?”

  
“Mrs. Hudson’s got her today. I didn’t want ask you to watch her in case you happened to be working a case today.”  
“No, I’ve got nothing on,” Sherlock said, rounding John to grab the sugar.

  
That’s when it happened.

  
A scent brushed by Sherlock’s nose and decided to catalogue itself into his brain. It was deep, spicy, masculine, and John. All the air left Sherlock’s lungs as he was abruptly hit with images of being pressed against John’s bare skin, John surrounding him, in him, and his cock began to fill with blood and harden faster than he could rid himself of the images, accidentally releasing a groan.

  
Noticing, John turned, frowning in concern. “Sherlock? Are you okay?”

  
“Fine,” Sherlock shot up, playing it off. “Back aches. A shower will do me some good. Excuse me, John,” he quickly rounded him, avoiding showing John his front, and rushed off to the bathroom.  
Shutting the door, Sherlock slumped down in frustration. He was going to ruin everything. He tried to listen for John, but he couldn’t hear anything anymore. He didn’t want to move until he was entirely sure that John had left. Soon, he heard the door downstairs close and his shoulders sagged in relief. Sherlock was alone. And, for some reason, this excited him. His breath came faster as he tried to force himself to calm down, but his transport was defying him.

  
He knew there was only one thing he could do.

  
Getting to his feet, Sherlock stripped out of his clothes and turned the shower on. When the water grew warm enough, he climbed in. The warm water soothed him, but did nothing to make his erection go down.

  
Begrudgingly, Sherlock wrapped his hand around his length, hissing at the sensation. His hips canted up, slowly thrusting into his hand, letting his hand stroke himself, dragging the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock upon each pass, eliciting a gasp.  
Abruptly, an idea struck Sherlock. He looked around for the new bottle of soap John had obviously bought yesterday and snatched it up. He knew that this was a terrible idea, that this was a bit not good, but he couldn't help himself. Sherlock opened the cap with a telltale snick and poured some into his hand. Using some water to rub his hands together, Sherlock wrapped a hand around his cock and released a long moan. He knew he wasn’t going to last. As the deep, spicy scent arose and filled the bathroom, Sherlock’s head filled with images of John hovering over him, filling him again and again.  
“Oh _God_ , John,” Sherlock breathed into a moan. His hand stroked faster, imagining John pressing him down against the bed, his thrusts hard and unforgiving. A gasp fell from Sherlock’s lip as he felt warmth pool through his bollocks, in the lower pit of his stomach, and released a shuddering gasp of John’s name as he found his release.

  
Sherlock nearly fell forward at the force of his orgasm, spilling over his fist. He didn’t stop until he reached the point of oversensitivity and John's name was spilling from his lips like a prayer. Sherlock’s free hand shot out to hold himself up as he sought out to catch his breath. He worked to slow his heart rate down, breathing in through his mouth, and out his mouth.

  
When Sherlock finally caught his breath, the room went silent, save for the sound of the shower spray hitting the tub floor.  
Sherlock was descending from his high when an obvious cough erupted from outside the shower.

  
His blood immediately ran cold.

  
_John._

  
Sherlock released himself and straightened up, blinking to rid himself of the images to no avail. With what dignity Sherlock had left, he pushed the shower curtain out of the way to find John casually leaning back against the door, his left leg crossed over right, his arms crossed over his chest, looking as breathtakingly leisurely as possible.  
Sherlock couldn’t form words, so John spoke.

  
“Do you know you do that out loud?” John spoke softly between them. It sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine. He knew there was a storm within John’s eyes as well as within the man himself, that he could do dangerous things to Sherlock that would make the consulting detective forget his name, and the fact that John was holding the storm back for now, caused another ripple of shock to roll down Sherlock’s spine.

  
Sherlock knew what he was supposed to say next, yet he still stumbled. “S-sorry, I...I’ll stop.”

  
Something flashed in John’s eye, something possessive, and it made Sherlock’s cock stir. “No,” John murmured quietly. “It’s...fine.”

  
Sherlock’s mouth went dry and his eyes went wide. “‘ _Fine_ ’?”

  
John nodded, his voice low. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  
“I…” Sherlock trailed off, his heart clenching, _because all I wanted, since I got back, was for you to be happy_. “Because...I love you.”

  
That surprised John, his eyes widening in the same manner Sherlock’s had done when he’d realised John considered him to be his best friend.

  
“Sherlock,” John finally spoke through his shock. “If you would be amenable...I’d like to take you into your bedroom and show you exactly how much I love you.”  
Sherlock nodded vigorously and John crossed the bathroom, pulling Sherlock down to kiss him. Sherlock stifled a moan at John’s lips finally touching his. Unconsciously, Sherlock stepped out of the shower, unabashed about his nakedness. John pulled back to fully take Sherlock’s body in and, in that moment, Sherlock watched the last amount of John’s repressed storm fall away.  
His arms pulled Sherlock up with ease, with strength Sherlock failed to realise John had.

  
John spilled Sherlock onto the bed, his eyes dark and sure. Sherlock felt like prey and cock definitely stood at attention. He could see and feel John's permeating gaze, see the man giving into something much more stronger and heady.

  
John began to undress. His shirt went first, finally letting Sherlock gaze at his scar. Quite slowly, Sherlock rose to his knees to touch and explore. John watched him curiously, shivering as Sherlock's deft fingers ran along his skin, brushing over his nipples, analysing his body in a way he would only ever let Sherlock Holmes do.  
Soon, Sherlock gathered his own idea; his hand headed south.

  
“Ah,” John quickly grabbed Sherlock's wrist, looking down at the man who was smirking up at him. “That's not how this is going to go,” John murmured.

  
“And tell me, John, just how this is going to go,” Sherlock said, almost breathless, wanting to challenge John.

  
“Here's what's gonna happen, _Sherlock_ ,” John said, his voice low and dangers, sending convulsing shockwaves down Sherlock's spine. John pulled back and undid his belt, easily sliding his trousers and pants down until the buckle hit the floor with a loud thud. But that's not what Sherlock was focused on. His eyes were caught on the length and girth of John's cock. It was long, thick, and hard and Sherlock felt his mouth water in anticipation. “I am going to open you up for me. I'm going to make sure you can take all of me so that you can feel me for days. After you're crying and begging for my cock, I'll give it to you. I'll spread you open so that you can feel every inch of me moving inside of you. With every brush against your prostate, you'll be trembling against me when you come for me. I am going to make love to you, Sherlock Holmes. Do you understand?”  
Sherlock nodded vigorously.

  
“Good,” John walked over to Sherlock's bedside table and found Sherlock's hidden bottle of lube. He rounded to the foot of the bed, climbing on. “Spread your legs for me.”

  
John prepped Sherlock extensively. He sat in between Sherlock's spread thighs, using his legs to prop up Sherlock so that there was very little space between him and John. At this point in time, John had two fingers buried within Sherlock's hole, hungrily watching Sherlock's cock twitch whenever John brushed the man’s prostate. Sherlock pushed back against John's fingers, cries breaking into wails as John gently added a third, stretching Sherlock even further.

  
“ _John_ ,” Sherlock began to plead. “John, please.”

  
“Please what, Sherlock?” John inquired nonchalantly as he pushed directly against the man's prostate, eliciting a sharp cry from Sherlock.

  
“ _Please_ , John!” Sherlock sobbed desperately, his hips canting up into John's touch.

  
“Okay, okay,” John murmured in a soothing tone, leaning down to kiss Sherlock's hip bones. Sherlock's body was trembling in anticipation and he wanted John now. “I've got you,” John brushed kisses up Sherlock's stomach to his chest, letting his teeth gently scrape against one of Sherlock's nipples, causing his hips to buck at the unexpected contact, whimpering as his cock leaked precum onto his stomach. “No one’s ever touched you here?” John inquired and did it again to see Sherlock's reaction all over again. “Oh,” John groaned, lowly. “You're breathtaking,” his dark eyes gazed up at Sherlock’s to meet his verdigris, clouded stare. “I can’t wait to take you apart,”

  
Sherlock trembled visibly in anticipation. “ _Please_ ,” was all he could muster.  
John pulled back onto his knees, positioning himself between Sherlock’s spread legs. Grabbing the lube, he coated the length of his cock generously and Sherlock felt his mouth going dry as he watched him. John’s eyes met Sherlock’s, watching his reaction as he gently pushed the head of his cock into Sherlock, watching the man below him groan low.

  
“Alright?” John inquired, receiving Sherlock’s answering nod. John inched himself further, pulling out and slowly pushing back in another inch or two, until he filled Sherlock, letting himself fall to his forearms, hovering closely over Sherlock before his lips brushed under his neck, letting Sherlock adjust.

  
Sherlock's lips were parted, breathless, at being so full of John. John was inside of him, filling him, expanding him to a point he'd never been in his life. He met John's dark blue gaze. “ _John_ ,” it was all the genius could muster, but John understood.

  
Slowly gripping Sherlock by his thighs, he pulled Sherlock's hips onto his so that Sherlock was slanted on the bed, his upper body deemed useless as he gazed up at John, his hips slowly creating an undulating motion. Sherlock began eliciting sounds he didn't know he could make. He seemed to have no vocal control over the amount of pleasure John was bringing him. His thrusts were slow and deep and Sherlock could feel every delicious inch of John.

  
“Oh, God,” Sherlock keened, pushing back against John’s cock, the scent of their sweat soaked skin and their sex permeating within the walls of their room. Sherlock’s head fell down against the pillows, a high, keening moan fell from his cupid bow lips as John buried himself deep within the consulting detective. Sherlock could do nothing but look up at John in awe, watching the way his stubbled jaw set, that silver-blonde hair fixed in the sunlight, those dark blue eyes, gazing down at him.

  
“ _Sherlock_ …” John whispered, wrapping his hand around the length of Sherlock, slowly stroking, letting the man thrust up into his hand. Sherlock placed his feet on the bed for better footing, lifting up against John and his hand. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  
It was more thean Sherlock could bear and he could audibly hear himself making sounds, eliciting deep from within his throat, but his brain wasn’t connecting with the use of his vocal chords. He was having an out of body experience, his nerves were _tingling_ , _trembling_ , and everything was _tightening_ and–abruptly–Sherlock found it impossible to breathe as a bright light burst forth behind his eyelids as he came, falling apart under John.

  
John was breathless, watching the beauty of Sherlock coming. Those beautiful raven curls were surrounding the crown of his head in a halo as he threw his head back, those lips releasing the most sinful noises John had ever had the pleasure of hearing. It threw John over the edge, watching Sherlock come undone, spilling into Sherlock, his body doubling forward from the force of it, his world going black. When he came to, held himself on trembling arms over Sherlock who looked entirely blissed out.  
“When can we do that again?” Sherlock inquired.

  
“Anytime,” John answered, pressing his lips to Sherlock's who kissed him back with fervour

  
“Now?” Sherlock murmured into the kiss.

  
“Give me a couple minutes,” John chuckled, Sherlock settling for wrapping his arms around John's shoulders, settled and happy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, let me know in a comment what your favourite part or line was! All feedback is important to me.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: consulting-writer.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading! ❤️


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